Gunpowder & Moonshine
by Alya Kihaku
Summary: "I've got a lot of people who wan' to see me bleed, but gods don' bleed, Jackie Boy. If they do then people will stop fearin' 'em and when tha' happens all hell breaks loose." Samantha Avery knew more than her fair share about fear, how to overcome it and how to create it. Follow Sam as her business and personal life get forced together in the most inconvenient of ways.
1. The Thought Process of a Chicken

Maggie was startled out of her usual afternoon haze by the sound of boots on the front porch. She watched the door with apprehension, the unpleasant always seeming to sneak up on her.

The door opened with a creak and a tall and slim figure stepped in. He looked like he had walked out of one of Cricket's Western stories, a Gun Slinger if Maggie remembered right. A black Stetson, a long coat, riding pants, spurred boots, and hip holsters. Maggie tried to get a look at his face but a red bandana covered half of it, leaving only dirt coated skin and blue eyes visible.

"Afternoon, can I get you anything?" she asked out of polite instinct. "Some water? Coffee maybe?"

The stranger seemed to just notice that she was there, a surprised look passing across the blue eyes before they crinkled at the edges. "Coffee would be awfully nice," he said, starting towards the bar.

Maggie hadn't expected his voice to be quite so high, she had expected him to sound like Forest or Howard. "Comin' right up," she said, daring to turn her back to grab a mug and the coffee pot. "Sugar and milk?" she asked on the off chance.

"If you don't mind."

Maggie was surprised again. She'd never met a man who took sugar and milk with their coffee. She poured the cup before grabbing the white sugar bowl and the jar of milk from the cooler. "There you go."

"Thank you kindly," he said as he settled on the barstool, his coat flared out behind him.

Maggie couldn't help but watch him as he spooned several helpings of sugar into the brown liquid before pouring in a generous amount of milk. By the time he was done stirring the coffee was a dark beige color.

"You're new, aren' you?" he asked, reaching a gloved hand up to pull the bandana down around their neck. "I would remember you if you weren'."

She nodded. "I am," she answered, silently cursing the angle of his hat. She still couldn't see his face. "Been here about two weeks."

He took a tentative sip of his coffee, paused, and shoveled another spoonful of sugar into it. "How d'you like it?"

"I like it just fine," she said with a nod.

"The boys treatin' you right?"

Maggie assumed that 'the boys' were the Bondurant's. "They've been perfect gentlemen."

An unmanly titter of chuckles left him as he shook his head. "I can' see Howie actin' the gentlemen. Somethin' about that just doesn' seem right."

She had the distinct feeling that she was missing something, an inside joke or a tidbit of information no one had cared to share. "Have you known them long?"

The hat tipped to the side. "I guess you could say that," he allowed.

"Do you-" she hesitated, not sure if she should as or not.

"Do I what?" he prompted.

"Do you work with them?"

Another unmanly chuckle left him. "That would be a sight. Nah, my business and their business doesn' mix well. I'm just a friend."

She nodded at that, still a little unsure. "And what is it that you do?"

He was quiet for a moment and sipped his coffee again. "Honestly, darlin', the fact that you don' know probably means that you shouldn'," he said, his tone surprisingly conversational; not confrontational. "I get in a whole lot more trouble with my business then they get with theirs."

That made her uneasy. Bootlegging was pretty serious trouble, plenty of people get killed or thrown in prison for it. Maybe it was like some of the things she had seen in Chicago, the things she had ran from. "Well, if it's anythin' like the Bondurant's then I'm sure that's true."

He gave a nod. "It's true," he agreed. "You run into trouble here yet? Some of their customers arn' that kind."

She shifted uncomfortably. "Nothin' that couldn't be handled."

"Well that's good, I suppose," he mumbled. "Can't have you scared off. I know the boys have a hell of a time findin' someone to manage this place. Forrest can cook, though there isn' much variety with that, Howie wouldn' know how to turn on the damn stove, and Jack tends to burn anythin' he touches," he told her. "It's a miracle those boys have made it as far as they have."

That knowledge was something that was learned over time, observed rather than told. Maggie confirmed her suspicions of him being a childhood friend, someone who had been with the Bondurant's for a respectable amount of years. "Are you here for a visit? Or are you stayin' in Franklin?"

"Bit of both," he answered. "Visitin' for the friends and stayin' for the small town. I got in a bit of trouble few days ago, need to keep my head down for a while."

Maggie refrained from asking him what kind of trouble. "They aren't here. At least, not right now," she said instead.

"I know. They're out on a run," he mused. "When are you supposed to close up?"

She glanced over to the clock on the wall. "Half hour," she answered. "They're supposed to be back before then."

"They will," he assured her. "Forrest keeps a tight schedule."

Maggie caught the slight inclination when he said Forrest's name, a certain fondness to it. "Would you like something to eat while you're waitin'?" she asked, a part of her head telling her to change the subject to something more casual. "We have burgers or I could make you a sandwich if you'd like?" she offered.

"Whatever you have layin' around will do. I don' want to put you out."

Maggie shook her head. "You're not putting me out," she denied. "Which would you like?"

"Well, if you insist, a sandwich would do just fine."

"I'll get to it," she said and once again turned her back on him to get to work. She was a little relieved to be busy. There was something about the stranger that didn't sit right with her, something that she couldn't put her finger on. It took her a few minutes to put it all together, taking extra care due to the fact that he was a friend of the Bondurant's. She had just set it in front of him when the roar of an engine alerted them to the brothers' arrival.

"No way," Jack's voice was heard before he burst through the door. He paused long enough to spot the man at the bar before running forward again, straight to him. "Sam!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms around his waist and hoisting him off the stool.

"Jack!" the man snapped as he ripped from the bar, his mug of coffee going with him and sloshing all over the place. "Jack, put me down!"

That was the moment that Maggie realized that the man she had been speaking with wasn't a man at all. In the process of being lifted off the stool the hat had been knocked off, revealing a dirty but still stunning face and bright blonde hair that had been twisted up onto her head in a bun.

"Jack, I swear to God!" the woman, Sam according to Jack, shouted as she struggled against the boy's hold. "Don' make me hurt you!"

Jack ignored her and continued to spin her around, his laughter echoing through the station.

Maggie was about to shout at him to put her down when Howard and Forrest stepped in, neither of them seeming all that surprised at what they found their brother doing.

"Jack, put her down now," Forrest said, not having to raise his voice to be heard.

Jack came to a stop and set Sam back onto her feet, the woman throwing her elbow back to catch his stomach as she stepped away. He huffed and slumped back, doubling over himself with a wince.

"I ought to slap you silly, Jackie boy," she told him, pointing a threatening finger at him. "Look at what you did. You're lucky I didn' drop the damn mug too," she grumbled, setting the now empty brown coffee mug onto the bar.

Maggie took note of how half of it was on the flour and the other half was on her. She grabbed a rag and moved to mop up the floor, only to stop when Sam gave her a pointed look.

"That ain' your mess, darlin'," she told her, holding a hand out. "We're goin' to let Jack clean that up."

Maggie hesitated and looked to Forrest for guidance. She'd never seen anyone order around one of the brothers without Forest getting ruffled under the collar. She was surprised when he gave her a nod. She gave Sam the rag and moved back behind the counter. "I'll get you something for your coat," she mused.

"Thank you kindly," Sam said with a nod as she turned back to Jack, dangling the rag in front of him.

Jack beamed at her and took the rag without complaining. "Sorry about that, Sam."

"Uh-huh," she agreed, swooping down to grab her hat off the floor. "You're lucky you're pretty cause you've got the thought process of a chicken."

Howard barked out a laugh at that and stepped forward, his arms open in a greeting. "Good ta have ya back, Sammy."

She accepted the hug with a smile till he was actually on her, her face twisting when she caught his smell. "Jesus, Howie, you smell worse than the horses!"

He didn't seem bothered by that. "Like you smell any better," he told her.

"I smell a might better than you do," she argued, patting his back to get him off her. "Though none of us smell as nice as Forrest."

The silent Bondurant turned a pink color that surprised Maggie, she had never seen him blush before.

"I can take your coat," she offered, unable to help but feel a little left out.

Sam spun to face her, a sweet smile on her face. "Goodness, you're fast," she praised, pulling off her gloves before undoing the buttons of her coat. She shrugged out of it to reveal a grey waistcoat and a white button up, both spattered with what could only be blood.

"Land sakes, Sammy, what the fuck happened to you?" Howard demanded, grabbing hold of her arm to turn her towards him.

She shook his hand off. "Don' worry, none of its mine."

"Awright, but what happened?" he pressed.

She shook her head as she stepped to the bar, laying the black coat across the counter. "Jus' business. Didn' have time to change before headin' out."

Forrest grunted and started for the stairs. "Get ya somethin' ta wear," he stated.

Maggie was surprised while Sam wasn't.

"Thank you, Forrest!"

A grunt was her answer.

"What kind of business?" Jack asked from his spot on the floor, still trying to get the sticky liquid up. "You kill someone?"

Howard glared down at him. "Why do you ask questions like that?" he asked, kicking his brother's leg.

"Don' kick your brother," Sam chastised, smacking his arm. "No, Jack, I didn' kill someone. Stabbed someone, but didn' kill someone."

"Is that why you got…" he trailed off, gesturing to her shirt.

She pursed her lips, seeming to decide if she was going to tell him or not. "Well," she started, "when you stab someone in the neck you tend to get blood on you."

His eyes shot wide but he didn't ask any more questions.

"Did you get blood on this too?" Maggie asked, knowing she would have to actually wash the coat to get blood out.

"Probably," Sam answered offhandedly, looking back to her, "but don' you worry about that. That coat started out white."

Maggie couldn't help her smile.

Sam was pleased about the smile and cocked her head to the side. "I haven' introduced myself, have I?" she asked before holding her hand out. "Samantha Avery."

"Maggie Beuford," she responded as she took her hand. She recognized the name. She had heard it a few times in passing by the people she wouldn't want to be caught eavesdropping on. Samantha Avery was a gun manufacturer who supplied to anyone who would buy. Cops and gangster alike.

"Pretty name," Sam mused, squeezing her hand before letting go. "Where did you come from, Maggie?"

"Chicago," she answered before she could stop herself.

A pleased hum left her. "I love Chicago. Beautiful city."

Maggie nodded in agreement. "It is."

Sam seemed to notice her discomfort. "Glad you're here though," she told her. "I'm sure the boys thank their stars they have you."

"Sure do!" Jack spoke up, popping up from the ground. "We're awfully glad that you're here, Miss. Maggie."

"Thanks, Jack."

Forrest's footstep on the stairs halted our conversation, the four of them looking over to him. He had a bundle of clothes, his judging by the fact that there was a cardigan. "Clothes."

Sam met him at the foot of the stairs instead of making him walk across the room. "You're too kind, Forrest," she told him, reaching up to take them from him. "D'you got a minute? I want to talk to you about somethin'."

He nodded without hesitation and, with a hand on her lower back, shuffled them to his office.

Maggie couldn't help the wash of surprise that came over her. Despite having not been in the station all that long she knew that Forrest wasn't an accommodating person or an affectionate one. So his deviating from his schedule and the hand on Sam's back was completely out of character for him.

Forrest pushed open the door to his office and ushered her in first before following and closing the door.

Sam stepped in and set the clothes on the desk, her fingers already going at the buttons on her vest.

Forrest dropped into his chair and watched her undress, not as embarrassed as he probably should have been. "You in trouble?" he mumbled out.

She sighed and tossed the ruined vest to the spare chair. "When am I not, Forrest?" she asked, flashing him a smile.

He grunted in agreement. "More than usual?"

She nodded her head to the side and started on the button up. "Jus' a little," she answered. "Things didn' really go my way this time around. It wasn' too bad but I need to stay gone for a while."

"Hmm, that why yer here?" he asked, appraising her. "To be gone?"

"Not the only reason," she denied, catching the disappointment and accusation in his tone. "You know I come here for you."

He was quiet for a moment. "Haven' seen tail or hide of you in months."

Sam's jaw clenched and she pulled the spoiled shirt off, leaving her in the white camisole she used as a slip. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize for somethin'," he started, sounding more tired than angry, "you made a choice about. Don't."

She sighed and dropped her arms, watching him for a moment before moving over to sit on the side of his desk, a few inches away from him. "I don' suppose me sayin' that I missed you will make you feel any better about it."

He hummed and leaned back in his chair. "There ain't nothin' to feel better about."

She huffed out a laugh. "You don' lie, Forrest, so don' try," she advised, reaching out to grasp his closest hand, her lithe fingers playing with his thick ones. "Things have jus' been…" she trailed off, her brow furrowing as she thought. "Complicated," she said with a chuckle.

He gave her a questioning look.

"Things aren' goin' the way they're supposed to," she explained. "Nothin's been fucked up, but jus' little things, you know? Little things that have happened too many times to be a coincidence," she said, swallowing hard as she looked down at their hands.

"D'you need help?" he asked, although he was pretty sure Sam had never needed help in her natural life.

"Nah," she denied, her nail picking at one of the scabs on his knuckles. "I'm pretty sure I've handled it. That's why I haven' been comin' around. I didn' want to bring it around you and the boys."

Forrest grunted and pulled is hand away from hers. "Don't need to protect us," he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his cardigan.

Sam let out a frustrated sigh. "We live in two very different worlds, Forrest," she reminded him. "They have different rules, and I'll be damned if I bring those rules to your door. Jus' like you wouldn' bring yours to mine."

He watched her for a moment before grunting and shifting in his chair. He knew she was right.

"And what the hell were you doin' askin' me if I need help?" she asked, reaching out to smack his knee. "We don' mix in each other's business," she reminded him, twisting around to grab the clothes had had brought her. She popped her neck as she pulled on the shirt, her fingers wiggling to move the too long shirt sleeves up her arms. "Fell like a child," she muttered, fastening a couple of buttons before pulling on the cardigan. "You could fit two of me in this thing."

He let out a hum as he looked her over. "You always look …nice in my clothes," he said, a tentative hand reaching out to tug at the hem of the cardigan.

Sam gave him an amused smile. "You know what I'll never understand?"

He shook his head.

"How you can watch me undress without so much of a blush, but tellin' me I look good in your clothes gets you all flustered."

He shifted in his seat again, his eyes darting around the room as he struggled to think of something to say. "I don't….." he trailed off, clearing his throat.

"Well then it's a good thing that you don' have to," she said. "At least, not with me."

Forrest's eyes darted again but he didn't pull his hand away. "Hmm, good."

A small laugh left her at that and she leaned forward, her free hand braced on the arm chair as she kissed his forehead. "You're too kind to me, you know," she whispered, nuzzling him a little.

He let out a content sigh and leaned into her. "I'm not," he argued. "Hmm, you deserve better."

"What have I told you 'bout sayin' things like that around me?" she asked, trailing kisses down the side of his face. "There isn' anyone better than you."

He didn't protest but he also didn't agree. Instead he moved his hand from the hem of the sweater to press against her thigh, his fingers curling slightly against the fabric of her pants. Forrest couldn't remember the last time he saw her in something other than men's clothing, his included. It never bothered him, not even when they were kids. He learned a long time ago that Sam wasn't one to follow expectations, not that he ever had the mind to hold her to any.

Sam let out a hum of her own before moving her lips over his, the action more of a tease than an actual kiss.

He grunted in disappointment and leaned closer to her, almost rising out of his chair to do so. This was also something he learned a long time ago.

Their moment of peace was cut off by a knock on the office door.

A growl of frustration ripped its way up Forrest's throat.

Sam couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah?" she asked, loud enough for whoever it was on the other side of the door to hear.

"There's someone here to see ya, Sam," Jack's voice answered.

She sat up straight at that, confusion and concern flashing across her face.

Forrest didn't like that look. "Samantha?"

She glanced to him before climbing off the desk. "I didn' know anyone knew I was here," she mused, starting for the door.

Moving faster than usual he grabbed hold of her hand, keeping her back. "Samantha?" he asked again.

A reassuring smile swept across her face and she leaned down to kiss his knuckles. "Don' you worry, Forrest. It's jus' business."

That didn't exactly make him feel any better. Her business was almost twice as bad as his. Instead of arguing he got up from his chair and followed her out, his eyes locking on the man standing just a few feet within the front door, Howard's glare seeming to keep him from stepping in further.

"Roy?" Sam asked, walking over to him. "The hell you doin' here?" she demanded.

Roy pulled his hat off and dipped his head when she got to him, his hand digging into the pocket of his coat. "This came for you just before you left," he explained, holding out a crumpled telegraph. "I thought you should see it."

She smoothed the paper out and read it over, her lips mouthing along with the words. "Well, shit," she sighed, her posture slipping.

Roy shifted uncomfortably. "What do you want to do about it?"

"Nothin' to really do abou' it," she answered, crumpling the paper up once again. "What's dead is dead. Jus' make sure his wife and kids are taken care of and the funeral is squared away."

He nodded quickly. "The usual?"

She grunted in denial. "Whatever his wife want's, it's on me," she told him. "Whatever she wants. Alright?"

"Alright," he agreed. "What about the shipment?"

Sam shrugged. "S'long as it got there we're not in any trouble. Might send a little somethin' as an apology of inconvenience but we should be fine."

"Alright," he agreed again with a nod. "Some of the fellas have been asking me how long you're going to be gone for. Anything specific you want me to tell them?"

Sam fixed him with a look that would have made a weaker man weak. "Tell 'em to fuck off."

Roy beamed at that. "Sure, Boss."

"Good man," she praised. "Jus' out of curiosity, how'd you know I was here?"

Roy's smile dropped.

"You're not in trouble, Roy," she assured him, looking a little amused.

He nodded his head to the side. "Well, before you left you were muttering something about, uh, fucking a Bondurant," he explained, shooting the three men behind her a glance. "I took the chance of coming down here."

Sam's smile twitched till she was full blown laughing, the sound filling the station and startling Howard. "I knew there was a reason I hired you!"

He seemed sheepish at that and ducked his head again. "Thanks, Boss," he mumbled. "While I'm here is anything you need? Something I can do for you?"

"You can forget that I'm here," she answered.

It appeared that Roy didn't have to be told twice. "I've already forgot," he said, waving to the side of his head to signify the information fluttering away. "I don't even know where I am. These country roads are more confusing than I expected."

Sam nodded her head to the side. "They sure are, Roy. Make sure you get yourself home safe, alright?"

"Sure thing, Boss," he said before looking back up to the brothers, that uneasy smile on his face. "Evening."

The Bondurant's didn't respond in kind.

He ducked his head and backed towards the door. "See ya, Boss."

"See ya, Roy."

Roy retreated from the station like she had told him to fuck off, the sound of a car engine soon following him.

Sam let out a sigh and scrubbed a hand across her face. "This is gettin' ridiculous," she grumbled.

"Everythin' alright, Sam?" Jack asked, his concern for her overriding the scolding Howard had given him.

"Yes and no," she answered, shoving the crumpled note into the pocket of Forrest's cardigan. "The business is fine, I'm just tired of havin' to replace all my runners," she said, spinning on her heel to turn back to them. "That's the third one this month."

Surprise slapped him across the face. "Three?" he asked.

"All in Chicago," she sighed, flashing a smile at Maggie. "Beautiful city, darlin', but its hell on my turn over rate."

Maggie gave her an uncomfortable smile.

"That the trouble?" Forrest asked, shuffling a little closer to her.

She shook her head. "Nah, jus' an unfortunate side effect of the nature of my business," she dismissed with a shrug.

Howard scoffed at that. "What? Your fellas gettin' picked off like lame ducks?"

She didn't rise to the taunt but nodded instead. "Unfortunately. They all know that when I offer 'em the job," she said, her eyes lighting up slightly when she spotted her sandwich still sitting on the counter. "Which is why I give 'em life insurance," she stated as she walked over and grabbed one of the triangles.

Howard's face screwed up. "The hell is life insurance?"

Sam took a bite and chewed thoughtfully for a moment. "Life insurance is a chunk of money given to the employee's family at the time of their death. It's enough to cover the funeral and keep the family livin' comfortably. It's the least I could do for gettin' their loved one killed."

"Let me get his straight," he started, his confusion not disappearing, "the fellas tha' work for ya get money other than wages?" he asked.

She nodded. "But only if they die on the job," she added. "And it only goes to the family."

"Well shit," he chuckled out, looking back to Forrest. "How come we ain't got tha'?"

He didn't look displeased but he also didn't look amused. "It'd be like robbin' Peter…..to pay Paul," he pointed out. "Ain't no point to it."

"Well maybe I should go work for Sammy then," he joked, walking over to grab the other half of Sam's sandwich.

She scoffed and smacked his hand, effectively making him drop the food. "As if I'd take you on," she denied. "You'd cause me more trouble than you'd be worth, Howie, and you know it."

He almost pouted at that. "I think I'm worth quiet a lot."

"Worth a laugh," Jack barked out before he could stop himself, his eyes going wide as he looked to Howard.

Howard pointed to him in his usual way, muttering something about 'little runt' before taking off towards him.

Jack bolted and ran out of the station, Howard hot on his heels.

The station was quiet for a moment before Maggie couldn't stand it.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Sam," she said, tugging the woman's coat off the counter to get a better look at the coffee stain.

She smiled at that and made sure to swallow before speaking. "Thank you, Maggie," she said, giving the woman a genuine smile. "And thank you for the food. Can' remember the last time I actually stopped to eat."

Maggie and Forrest shared a concerned glance.

"You must be pretty busy then."

"No rest for the wicked, darlin'."

Maggie would have smiled at that if it wasn't so true.

Sam went to take another bite but stopped when she remembered something. "We never did finish our conversation, did we, Forrest?" she asked.

He wasn't really sure if she meant the actual conversation or the impromptu triste. Either way he grunted and shook his head.

"Well, come on," she said, patting the seat next to her.

Forrest grunted again and walked over, lowering himself to the barstool.

Sam grabbed the half of the sandwich that Howard had tried to take and offered it to the middle Bondurant.

He watched it for a moment before leaning forward and taking a bite from it.

A girlish giggle left Sam at that. "God, Forrest," she said, setting it back on the plate and sliding it in front of him.

Forrest gave the smallest smirk, pleased that he had got her to laugh.

"If it's alright with you, I'd like to stay here for a while," she said, already knowing that it was. "A couple weeks, maybe?"

"Hmm, you don'…have to ask, you know?" he asked, glancing over at her.

"It's polite," she said with a shrug. "This isn' my home, I can' jus' barge in whenever I feel like it."

"The hell you can't," he grumbled, actually sounding a little put off. "The hell this ain' yer home."

Sam wasn't surprised by that and ducked her head to hide her smile.

"Yer welcome…..whenever ya like," he continued, shifting on his seat. "Like always."

Her smile turned a little sad as she nodded slowly. "Sometimes I jus' need a reminder," she muttered, leaning over to bump her shoulder into his. "Thank you, Forrest."

He hummed in acknowledgment and bumped her shoulder back. "S'long as you don' forget," he said, picking up the half he had bitten and took another.

"Not likely," she assured him, taking another bite and sliding off the stool. "I'm goin' to put Lightenin' in the barn, if that's alright?"

He nodded without hesitation. "Can have Howard do it," he offered.

Sam shook her head. "She's my horse, I'll take care of her."

Maggie perked up at that. "You rode a horse here?" she asked, not bothering to hide her surprise.

"Sure did," she answered, her smile beaming. "D'you wanna meet her?"

Maggie hesitated.

"Go on," Forrest encouraged.

She didn't need to be told twice, moving around the counter and following Sam out of the station door.

The horse, to say the least, was a sight to see. She was an inky black color that shimmered in the sunlight, the matching black tack almost blending it. Her mane was braided up along her neck, keeping it out of the way and untangled.

"This is White Lightenin'," Sam said, patting the horse's cheek.

Maggie arched an eyebrow. "White Lightening?" she asked, awfully sure that the horse's name couldn't be that transparent.

She nodded with a chuckle. "I know, I know, but hardly anyone outside of Franklin County knows what that is," she reasoned. "Besides, Forrest is the one who gave her to me, it's only right to name her in kind."

Maggie wasn't as surprised by that. "She's beautiful," she said, reaching out a tentative hand to pet the horse's other cheek.

"She sure is," Sam agreed. "You grew up in Chicago, right?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever ridden a horse?"

Maggie shook her head. "I've been in carriages and things but I've never ridden one," she answered.

"D'you want to?"

She startled at that and looked to Sam. "Oh, I don'-" she cut off, one of her hands flying to the skirt of her dress. "I don' think I should."

Sam pursed her lips and looked the dress over. "Yeah, probably not in that," she agreed with a nod. "Tell you what, we'll get you into a pair of my pants. There's no sense in denyin' you a ride cause of wardrobe limitations."

Maggie thought to protest but she really did want to ride.

"Come on, you're a country girl now. All country girls ride horses," Sam encouraged.

"Well," she sighed, "if all the girls do it."

"That's the spirit," Sam laughed, untying White Lightening's rein from the porch rail and walking down. "I think you're goin' to be jus' fine here, Maggie. Jus' fine indeed."

Maggie smiled at the compliment. "Thanks, Sam."

She walked backwards for a spell before turning forward and heading off towards the barn just behind the station.

* * *

 **I've had this story for a while and finally decided to see if anyone wants to read it. So let me know if you're interested and I'll keep working on it :)**

 **-Alya Kihaku**


	2. Kicked Yourself In The Eye

The rest of the day was spent uneventfully. Maggie had managed to get the coffee stains out of Sam's jacket, along with a few that were blood and a few more that she didn't want to know. Sam had thanked her like Maggie had rescued her child, the red head simply taking the compliments with a kind smile. They had eaten dinner together, the Bondurant's, Maggie, and Sam. A rag tag family that wasn't exactly sure how to act around each other yet.

Forrest, always the gentleman, had walked her to her car and wished her goodnight. She had wished him the same and climbed into her car, silently scolding herself for assuming things she didn't understand.

* * *

Sam yawned for what felt like the thousandth time that night and looked over to Forrest.

After dinner he had retreated to his office to finish up his work for the day, leaving Jack and Howard to head off to their respective rooms, Jack upstairs and Howard to the barn. Sam had remained at the table for a moment of consideration, torn between heading up to Forrest's room or following him to his office. She knew that either way he wouldn't mind. She had picked his office, hunkering down into one of the chairs across from him, her boots and socks discarded before she raised her feet to rest on his desk. Forrest had stared at the offending appendages for a moment before looking back to his book, seemingly okay with the intrusion.

"Go to bed, Samantha," he mumbled, having noticed her yawn.

She groaned and dropped her head against the back of the chair. "I don' wan' to sleep alone," she told him.

He glanced between her and the book, not seeming to know what to say to that.

"Forrest," Sam started, lowering her feet and getting up from the chair, "when'd you get up this mornin'?"

Forrest grumbled but didn't offer an answer.

She let out a disapproving sigh and walked over to him, her hands running across his shoulders before wrapping around him. "Come to bed, Forrest," she crooned, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "You need sleep."

He leaned back into her slightly, an instinctual reaction to her attentions. "I'm not done," he protested.

"It'll still be here when you get up," she assured him. "I'll even help you."

Forrest grunted at that, her usual refusal to mix their business flashing through his head. She would help him, he didn't doubt that, but he knew that it probably wouldn't go well if she questioned something. They worked differently, handled things in certain ways that the other would probably disagree with. It just wasn't a good idea if they wanted to remain civil with each other. "No."

If she hadn't known him so well she would have considered that rude; mean even. But she did know him, and it made her smile. "Then you better come to bed," she advised. "Cause if you don' I'm goin' to keep buggin' you, and if I keep buggin' you you'll never get it done."

If he wasn't so stubborn he would have told her that he didn't mind her bugging him. He actually liked it. It showed that she cared about him- well, cared enough to risk him getting angry like others always assumed he would. But Forrest had never been angry with her, or at least he couldn't remember a time when he had been. Annoyed and flustered? Sure. Angry? Never. Sam knew this and would use it to her advantage. Much to his annoyance and fluster.

"I've missed sleepin' next to you," she told him, her voice quiet as she pressed her lips to his ear. "Knowin' you're there. Feelin' your warmth. Holdin' you. I miss it, Forrest."

He cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. That was another thing about Sam that he learned a long time ago. She wasn't shy about her feelings and would tell you exactly what she was thinking, the recipients reaction be damned. He admired that about her. Her complete and unashamed honesty got her far in life. Professionally and personally. He didn't tell her that he felt the same way, although he did, and he didn't tell her the things that he had missed about her, although there was a rather long list. Instead, he closed his book, grabbed her hands and got up from his desk.

Sam pulled back as far as she could to accommodate the movement, the grip he had on her hands keeping her from going too far from him. She knew she would get her way, she always did when it came to Forrest. She never asked him for anything he wouldn't willingly give, requested or not. Though there wasn't much either of them wouldn't give to the other.

Forrest pulled her along behind him as he shuffled out of his office, locking the door behind him and stowing the key in his pocket. He pulled her around in front of him when they reached the stairs, his hand holding hers up as she went up the stairs. Sam was only graceful when she wore her boots, apparently having to concentrate on how to walk in the bulky things made her strut look unintentional. He'd seen her trip up the stairs too many times to take any chances, too many split lips and too many bloodied noses.

Sam didn't let herself into his room when she reached the door, instead leaning against the doorframe and waiting for him to catch her up.

He wouldn't have minded if she'd gone in but, just like asking him if she could stay, she was being polite. He smirked at that and opened his door, motioning her in first. He watched as she all but threw herself onto his bed, the mattress on the floor not at all elegant but she didn't seem to mind. She spread out face down across the covers, her lungs pulling in a deep breath and letting it out slowly as she seemed to melt. She laid still for a moment before rolling onto her back, her hands moving down to undo her belt, button, and zipper. Forrest closed the door and crouched at the foot of the bed, reaching out to grab the hem of her pants and tug.

Sam raised her hips to help him undress her, not at all disappointed that there wasn't a sexual tone to the act.

He folded her pants as he got back to his feet, setting them on top of the dresser before working on undressing himself. He undid his boots, took off his socks, removed his pants, and discarded a layer of shirts. When he turned back to the bed he found her nestled under the covers, curled up against the cold. He shuffled around and lowered himself down, Sam holding the blankets up for him. He shifted against the mattress till he was comfortable and opened up his arms for her.

She pressed herself against him, one leg hitching around his and one arm wrapped around his waist. Her head was rested over his heart, her ear pressed right to it so she could hear it beating. That was another habit he had never complained about.

Forrest wound his arms around her, one arm around her waist and one placed over hers, keeping it around his waist. He had missed this. Sleeping with her wrapped around him like he was the only thing keeping her to Earth. It made him feel intentionally needed, not just unintentionally needed like his brothers made him feel, but intentionally. Like she had seen him and decided that he was going to bear that certain dependence for her. Jack and Howard never thought about the dependence they had on him, they probably weren't even aware of it. But Sam was. Sam was always aware.

She shifted her head up till she could reach his neck and pressed lazy kisses against the skin there.

Forrest groaned at the attention, the simple act sending tendrils of warmth through him. Forrest normally didn't like to be touched. It didn't happen often and when it did it was usual violent. The only person who touched him with gentle intent was his brothers, Sam, and now Maggie, though the red head had only managed the courage to do such a thing a few times so far. They were still getting used to each other and Forrest would be lying if he said he wasn't growing a fondness for her. He knew Sam wasn't a jealous woman, but the thought had entered his mind when he saw the two speaking, Sam putting on her usual 'you don't know who I am and that's just fine' game with her hat and coat, while Maggie seemed to struggle with being charmed by the stranger and being leery. He had to give both of them credit for not making the situation as horrible as it could have been. No, Forrest didn't like to be touched. But this wasn't being touched, this was being loved, and Sam was the only one who made it enjoyable.

Sam's long day and equally long ride was catching up to her, her kisses on Forrest's neck growing sluggish and sloppy. Her thoughts were struggling to keep themselves straight as the darkness crept up on her. Though there wasn't the usual worry of being ambushed, or the anxiety of not waking up again. Not with Forrest. Never with Forrest.

"Samantha?"

She hummed out an acknowledgment.

"I, uh…" he trailed off, his voice not as rough as usual, but softer.

Sam recognized this tone as the one often inflicted on him whenever he tried to talk about his feelings. The magnitude of it leaving him unable to guard himself like usual. She often wondered if he was trying to copy her blunt and unrestrained admissions. That wonderment usually left her a little sad. She didn't want him to copy her, she wanted him to be him. She just wanted Forrest. "Me too, Forrest," she sighed. "Me too."

* * *

The next morning Maggie almost didn't recognize Sam. The woman was working behind the counter, dressed in more of Forrest's shirts and his apron. The honeysuckle hair that had been pinned up the night before was now hanging to her waist, soft curls cascading down Sam's back. Maggie hadn't expected her to have such long hair. It was so traditionally feminine that it was almost shocking for a woman like Sam to have it.

"Mornin', Maggie," Sam greeted when she spotted the other woman.

Maggie pulled out of her thoughts. "Morning, Sam," she greeted back, stopping by the counter to see what she was doing.

"Hope you didn' eat breakfast," Sam told her, depositing another perfectly golden pancake onto the plate beside the stove.

"No, I didn't have breakfast," she said, unbuttoning her coat and pulling it off. "You're up early."

Sam hummed in agreement. "I'm normally not a mornin' person but Forrest gets up at the crack of dawn, so I thought I would make myself useful," she explained before letting out a yawn. "Though I have a feelin' that I'll be back asleep before noon."

Maggie chuckled at that and stepped over to the coat rack, hanging hers before adding her hat. She had decided last night that she wasn't going to be surprised by the nonchalant comments Sam made about her relationship with Forrest. There wasn't a point to it, and Maggie didn't have a right to, not really. "They smell wonderful, Sam," she praised, making her way back to the counter.

Sam gave her a kind smile. "Thank you kindly," she said with a little head nod. "I might not be able to sow but I sure can cook."

"I sow better than I cook," Maggie admitted, her time at the club giving her plenty of practice with costumes falling apart.

"We make a pretty good pair, don' we?"

"We do," she agreed with a soft smile. "Where are the boys?" she asked, glancing around the station. "They're usually running around like chickens with their heads cut off."

A girlish giggle left Sam at that, her smile widening. "I sent them off to the stills early so they'll have time for an actual breakfast," she explained. "They've always had this bad habit of runnin' off with toast or a cup of coffee then not eat till dinner. It drives me crazy."

Maggie nodded in agreement. She had noticed that the boys didn't actually sit down to eat unless they were told or if it was dinner. "I wonder why that is," she mused. They were a close family, why didn't they eat together?

"Their momma tried to get them to eat every meal together," Sam explained, a sad smile on her face. "But those boys always had somethin' better to do, somethin' more fun. So she compromised. Dinner was always to be eaten together, as a family, no exceptions."

Maggie felt a little out of place being told such a personal tidbit of information. The Bondurant's didn't offer such information willingly, or forcibly she assumed, so she felt like it wasn't something she should know.

"I remember the first time I went to their house," Sam continued, pouring another ladle of pancake batter into the skillet. "We were late, cause Howie wouldn' leave the creek without catchin' a fish, and the only reason their momma didn' go at 'em with a spoon was cause she saw me. Now, when I was jus' a kid I wasn' as proper as I am nowadays-" she paused to share a giggle with Maggie, "so I looked a sight. A little girl, jus' as dirty as her boys, wearin' the same thing as her boys, and smilin' like her boys. She asked them where they found me and when Howie said 'but Momma, this is Sammy. You know 'er' I thought she was goin' to faint. Apparently none of the boys had bothered tellin' her that their friend Sammy was a girl."

Maggie dissolved into soft laughter, picturing it in her head. "It's almost hard to imagine them as kids."

Sam's smile twitched at that. "Yeah, well, Jackie's still a kid in some respects, despite what he thinks," she muttered. "Howie still has childish moments but Forrest….." she trailed off, her eyes dropping down to look at the skillet. "Forrest grew up fast."

Maggie couldn't ignore the tone of sadness in the woman's voice but she didn't press for why. She barely knew the mismatched family she had thrown herself into and she didn't want to overstep so soon. Instead she decided to ask about something she hoped had a simple answer. "Has Forrest always been so, so…." She struggled to think of a way to explain it.

Sam's smile was back full bore. "You mean has he always been so mhmm, uh-huh, hmmm?"

Maggie nodded.

"Oh yeah," she answered with a nod. "Forrest has never been big on talkin', not when he doesn' have to. If he can grunt at you as an answer then he's goin' to."

That seemed ridiculous to Maggie. "Why?"

Sam shot her a look. "Like you haven' noticed," she accused with a smirk.

"Noticed what?"

Sam seemed torn between telling her or not. She glanced around the station as if to check that it was still just the two of them before leaning closer to her. "He's shy," she whispered.

Now that shocked Maggie to her core. "Shy?" she repeated.

Sam nodded and flipped the pancake. "Terribly so. Has been his whole life."

"I can't believe that."

"You will. Once you've known him longer."

Maggie hoped so. "Do you need help with anything?" she asked, feeling the need to change the subject.

Sam accepted the subject change. "If you want to make some coffee that'd be great," she told her.

She nodded and moved around the counter, heading to where she had moved the supplies. "Sorry, I changed it around a little. Did you find everything you needed?"

"This is the most organized I've ever seen it," Sam praised, glancing around the kitchen. "I never even tried when I was workin' here."

"You worked here?" she asked, really not all that surprised.

"The first year they started runnin' the place," she answered. "Till I took over my own business."

"So you've spent you're whole life with them."

Sam hummed in agreement and laid the last pancake onto the stack. "Jus' about."

"How'd you meet them?"

Sam barked out a laugh. "Despite the clothes and my cropped hair everyone in town knew I was a girl," she explained, "and Howie took it upon himself to tease me about it, so I took it upon myself to give him a black eye."

Maggie laughed again. "You punched him?"

"Damn right I punched him. Boys are like puppies, Maggie, you have to let them know they've done somethin' wrong or they'll do it for the rest of their lives," Sam told her with a pointed look.

She had never thought about it like that before but she knew it was right. "Should I carry around a rolled up newspaper to swat 'em on the nose with? D'you think that would work on Howard?"

Sam's laughter shot out of her like a bullet, startling and loud.

Maggie couldn't help but join her.

"The hell you two crowin' about?!"

They hadn't heard the Bondurant's return nor their entrance, the three brothers walking across the station towards them.

The two women looked to Howard only to laugh harder, leaning against the counter to keep themselves upright.

The oldest Bondurant went red in the face as he watched them. "The hell's so funny?" he demanded. "Huh?"

Jack was smiling from ear to ear while Forrest kept back, an almost concerned look on his face.

Sam snatched the newspaper off the counter, rolled it quickly, and smacked Howard on the nose with it.

He jerked back and went cross eyed to try and look at his nose. "Why'd you-why'd you do that?" he asked, the embarrassed anger gone and now replaced with bewilderment.

"Holy Hell, Maggie, it actually worked," Sam said, pulling in a deep breath to calm herself down, one hand still on the counter.

Maggie shook her head as she struggled not to giggle. Never in a million years would she had dared to hit Howard Bondurant on the nose with a newspaper, but yet Sam hadn't even thought twice about it.

"I was jus' tellin' her about how we met," Sam explained, gesturing between herself and Howard with the newspaper. "And she asked if swattin' you on the nose would work jus' as well as a fist."

It clicked for Howard and he was suddenly smiling. "She told ya 'bout tha' huh?" he asked, addressing Maggie. "She tell ya tha' I had tha' black eye fer two weeks?"

Maggie shook her head. "No."

"Everybody knew she was the one who done it too," he added. "So I couldn' even lie 'bout how I got it."

"Didn' stop him from tryin' though," Sam supplied, tossing the newspaper back on to the counter. "What was it, Howie? Kicked by a horse?"

"Ass," Howard corrected. "Kicked by a jack ass."

Sam folded her arms across her chest. "Did you honestly expect people to believe you kicked yourself in the eye?"

A reel of laughter escaped Jack while a small smile tugged at Forrest's lips.

Howard glowered good naturally, his usual quick temper nowhere to be seen. "One of these days yer not gonna have a comeback," he told me, "and yer little head is gonna explode."

Sam chuckled and flipped him off. "You're jus' jealous," she accused. "Now d'you want breakfast or not?"

All three brothers perked up at that.

"Wash up and take a seat," Maggie instructed with a nod, turning to finish up the coffee.

Sam gathered up the plates and made her way to the table they had had dinner at. She was setting them up when Forrest appeared behind her, a hand on her lower back as he took the plates from her. She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek in thanks before turning to get the silverware and glasses. With the help of the others they were soon eating breakfast.

"How are the stills holdin' up?" Sam asked around a mouthful of pancake.

"Fine," Howard grumbled out. "Though one of 'em is actin' odd. Don' know wha's wrong with it."

She frowned at that. "Really?" she asked. 'I'll have to take a look at it."

Forrest grunted at that. "Don' have to," he denied.

She gave him a small smile. "I built them, why wouldn' I look at them?" she asked, teasing slightly.

"You built them?" Maggie asked, sounding impressed.

"Sure did. I've always had a head for mechanics," she explained with a small shrug. "Though anythin' I've made with them has tasted like gasoline."

Snickers escaped Howard and Jack.

"'s cause you never follow the recipe," Forrest pointed out, his foot sliding over slightly to tap against the side of hers. A playful gesture just for them.

"If I wanted to make White Lightnin' then I would follow the recipe, but I want to make Black Lightnin'," she responded, tapping his foot back with a smirk.

"The hell is Black Lightnin'?" Howard demanded.

"The best damn moonshine in Franklin County," she answered with a wink. "Guaranteed to make you black out with one gulp."

"Shiiit," Howard dragged out before laughing. "Tha's pretty impressive stuff."

"Well, I aim to please," she mused, stabbing another forkful and shoving it into her mouth. She chewed quietly for a moment before something hanging around Jack's neck caught her attention. "Jackie boy, what's that around your neck?" she asked.

A startled look of elation swept across Jack's face. "I almost forgot!" he said, reaching up to pull the chain up and over his head. "Ain't it cool?" he asked, holding it out to her.

Sam snatched it from him and inspected the bullet casing, her frown deepening. "This is one of mine," she stated, looking up from it to him. "Where did you get this?"

Jack's excitement was unfazed by her sudden seriousness. "I was down in town and Floyd Banner rolled up. He blew away this car that was followin' him with a Tommy gun and then just drove off like nothin' happened."

Sam's jaw ticked as she looked back down at the bullet.

"Samantha?" Forrest asked, not liking the sudden tension that filled the woman.

"Did he see you?"

Jack shifted in his seat, his excitement dwindling. "He, uh, he winked at me," he answered.

She gave a subtle nod. "When was this?"

"Couple days ago."

Her eyes narrowed. "What the hell is he doin' down here?" she asked, more to herself than to the others. "He's supposed to be in New York, he's got a big-" she cut herself off and glanced around the table. "Not that I know anythin' about his business," she said, clearing her throat and sitting up a little straighter. "Jus' odd that he came down this way," she reiterated, holding the necklace out to Jack.

Jack wasn't going to let it go. "You know Floyd Banner?"

"Don' ask stupid questions."

He blushed at that and slumped back in his chair slightly. "You probably know every gangster from coast ta coast, huh?"

"That's a stupid question, Jack," she said, pointing her fork at him. "And if I ever hear you talk about Floyd Banner like he's a god again I'm goin' to hit you so hard your teeth will rattle, you understand?"

Jack paled at that. "Why?" he asked, glancing over to Forrest. "I-I mean-"

"Why?" she repeated, tilting her head to the side. "Cause men like Floyd Banner aren' in the business to be hero worshiped, Jack," she explained. "They're in it for the power and the control, and if somethin' threatens that it gets buried. You are very lucky that he didn' give a shit that people saw him, cause if he did you'd be on the side of the road with one of my bullets between your eyes."

"But he-"

"Jack, I've watched him make boys younger then you dig their own graves," she interrupted with a pointed look. "Don' mistake indifference for mercy, that'll get you killed quicker than you think."

The silence that filled the station was nerve wracking. Maggie, Howard, and Forrest glanced between the two of them, none of them knowing exactly what to say or if they even should.

Jack had never looked more like a child than he did then, his shoulders hunched his head lowered down, his fingers fidgeting with the necklace he had been so proud about.

A pang of regret shot through Sam at the destroyed look on his face. She struggled with herself for a moment before letting out a sigh. "I brought somethin' for you," she said, pushing away from the table and walking over to where her coat hung. She dug through a couple of the pockets before pulling something out and walking back over to Jack. She leaned over him and set what she had retrieved in front of him, the 3 inch brass bullet sitting stock straight.

"Holy shit," Jack said, attentively reaching out to take it.

"That's somethin' I've been workin' on. Brand new," Sam told him, moving back to her chair. "For a semi-automatic rifle."

Howard let out a whistle and leaned over to get a closer look. "That'd sure put a hole in ya."

Sam nodded. "The size of a silver dollar," she answered, sipping at her coffee.

"It's almost as thick as my finger," Jack marveled, rolling the bullet across his palm. "Who are you sellin' these to?"

"No one yet," she answered with a shrug. "I don' know if I will sell them."

That earned her surprised looks from all three Bondurants.

"Why not?" Howard asked. "You'd make a shit ton of money off those."

"I know," she sighed, running a hand through her hair, "but with the way things are goin' in the cities it might be better if I don'."

Jack looked between Sam and Forrest. "What's goin' on in the cities?" he asked.

"What isn' goin' on?" she asked. "Gangs are goin' at each other like the worlds endin', droppin' bodies in the streets and shootin' up clubs and bars. Hell, the cops aren' any better with those damn task forces of theirs. Can' tell you how many cops I've had come through lookin' for the same shit I jus' delivered to the gang their fightin'," she explained, shaking her head as she pointed to the bullet. "If I start sellin' those to both sides they're goin' to realize what I'm doin'. Either they'll force me to pick a side or they'll jus' cut me out all together. I gotta watch my ass with those."

Halfway through her rant Forrest's hand had found her knee under the table, his thumb rubbing soothing circles. When she had first told him that she was selling to the cops and the gangs he had been unable to keep his worry at bay. He hadn't voiced his concerns, they had an understanding about not giving advice unless prompted to, but he had been more attentive, touchy even. If she had noticed she didn't say anything, simply letting him do what he wanted. The only objection he'd ever had to her business was the fact that she had a lower survival rate than he did with his. She was more likely to end up in a ditch somewhere than he was.

"Maybe…" Maggie started hesitantly.

They all looked to her.

"Maybe you could sell the design to the other manufacturers?" she suggest, glancing over to Sam. "That way you still make money but you don't get all the trouble for it."

They continued to stare at her.

A blush dusted across her face. "I mean, there are other manufacturers, right?" she asked. "You're not the only one?"

Sam shook her head. "No, I'm not the only one," she mused, looking off to the side as she considered Maggie's suggestion. "I've never had to outsource before, but if there was ever a reason to…." She trailed off. "Huh, that jus' might work. Thank you, Maggie."

She gave a small nod. "I've seen my fair share of bodies in the streets. I'd hate for one of them to be you."

It was in that moment that all of them realized just what kind of life Maggie must have left behind in Chicago, and the kind of life she was facing in Franklin.

* * *

 **Here, have another one!**


	3. The Bane Of Franklin County

It turned out that Sam was right about being asleep by noon. She was propped up at the back table, her feet up on the table with her hat pulled down over her face to block the sun. It was a quiet day so no one seemed too bothered that she was there, continuing on about their day around her. It wasn't till she heard the unmistakable sound of a Pierce-Arrow engine pull up in front of the station that she was disturbed. Now, she knew that Franklin County was far from poor but no one outside of the city would have been able to afford a Pierce- Arrow Model 51. Sam pulled herself away from the table and towards the front windows, expecting either trouble for herself or for Forrest.

The car itself was absolutely gorgeous but the man standing to the side of it ruined any enjoyment of it completely. It also didn't help that the Sheriff and his Deputy were lingering as well.

"What the fuck is he doin' here?" she asked, a glare fixed on Charlie Rakes.

"Hi, Forrest," Pete called to the side of the station with a small wave.

The man in question strolled towards them, stopping a few feet from the car, Cricket right behind him. He checked the three men over before throwing his cigar to the ground and shoving his hands into his sweater pockets, no doubt threading his fingers through his brass knuckles.

Pete took that as an invitation. "This here's the new Special Deputy," he started, motioning towards Rakes. "He's been brought in from the city to help us out. You know, make sure things go smooth."

"And what things might they be?" Forrest asked, knowing better than to outright admit to anything.

Rakes let out a pretentious laugh.

Forrest's attention turned back to him. "Sorry, something amuse you?"

Rakes let out a sigh before addressing him. "My name is Charlie Rakes, I'm from Chicago."

"That damn brother of yours, he somewhere about?" Henry asked, non-too polite.

Forrest shot him a look instead of answering. "Who's in the car?"

Pete shifted uncomfortably. "That there's the new Commonwealth's Attorney, Mason Wardell. He wants to work it out so everybody gets to do some business."

A sharp tapping on the back window of the car interrupted their conversation, Rakes moving away from the car as if dismissed.

"Henry, do see what Mr. Wardell wants," Pete instructed.

Sam watched with a clenched jaw as Rakes stepped within reach of Forrest, looking him up and down as if to appraise him. Poor Cricket spooked and limped off back to the barn.

"Pete, who the hell is this son of a bitch?" Forrest asked, having enough of the man's staring.

"Me?" Rakes asked, stepping even closer to him. "I'm the one who's going to make life read difficult from now on if you don't tow the line, country boy," he explained as he jabbed Forrest twice in the chest.

Forrest seemed drawn between hitting him and shooting him. "Don't you ever touch me again."

Rakes laughed at that and looked away from Forrest.

Seeing the tension Pete spoke up. "All right, all right. Forrest, it already settled. The whole county's gonna get on board eventually…"

Sam didn't pay their conversation much mind, her attention better served on Rakes and the look he was giving Maggie. A wave of nausea washing over her when she saw him smile. Setting her hat a little firmer on her head she started for the door and stepping out onto the porch, her eyes never leaving Rakes. "Darlin', why don' you head in?"

Rakes' eyes snapped up to her, his entire body stiffening when he recognized her. "Samantha," he said, a hint of surprise in his voice. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Sam held the door open for Maggie as she retreated inside, the woman seeming to make a point of not hurrying. "I could say the same for you, Chuck," she said, letting the screen slap closed. "What's a fancy thing like you doin' in the country?" she asked, stepping to the edge of the porch, her arms folded across her chest.

Rakes' smile twitched.

"Hi there, Sam," Pete greeted, his tone a forced conversational one. "Didn' know you were in town. We were just telling Forrest here that the Special Deputy and Mr. Wardell are here to help us. Make sure that no one'll bother his business- or yours."

Sam shot him a look. "I don' do business in Franklin," she told him before looking back to Rakes. "Chuck, you do know that we don' get that perfume you like here, right? Or that hair grease of yours. Hope you brought enough for your stay."

His lip curled into a sneer. "Oh, we're not leaving anytime soon, Samantha," he said, putting extra emphasis on her name. "Not until we get what we came for."

She cocked a smile at that. "You'll be lookin' like one of the locals before that happens."

"We'll see."

"Uh, Forrest," Henry spoke up, "Mr. Wardell, he'd like a jar of your finest apple brandy. If that'd be all right?" he asked, holding out the bill to Forrest.

Forrest's attention remained on Sam however, waiting for her to look over at him, to let him know that she was aware that this was his situation. That he would handle it. She did just that, her eyes meeting his momentarily before snapping back to Rakes. Forrest snatched the money from him and stalked towards the car, braving a foot up on the kickboard and stared in at the man in the back seat.

Virginia's new Commonwealth Attorney rolled the window down, giving Forrest a look that clearly stated he had no idea who he was about to go toe-to-toe with. "Can I help you, son?"

"Yeah," Forrest grumbled out, "you send your clown with the bow tie around here again and I guarantee you'll personally pull a cleaver out of his fucking skull, you understand me?" he asked as he reached through the window to shove the money into the front pocket of Wardell's jacket.

"You're gonna regret this, Forrest," Pete warned, sounding a little regretful himself.

"He's already regretting it, he's just too ignorant to know it yet," Rakes stated, turning his back to Sam to watch Forrest approach.

Forrest shared another look with Sam before he stopped at the foot of the stairs, a few feet away from Rakes. He watched the man as if expecting him to run off to his boss, but Rakes stood where he was.

"Are you thinking of drawing on me?" he questioned, seeming to think that he recognized the look in Forrest's eyes.

"He's not, but I am," Sam answered, her hand already resting on the butt of one gun.

Rakes seemed to shift his clench his right hand out of instinct. "You know, I was planning on sending you flowers but since I have you here in person," he started, once again turning to her. "I'm sorry to hear about what happened to Jason. Grizzly business. Are you going to the funeral?"

She shook her head. "No, but I'm sure I'll have another opportunity to admire your handy work."

He let out that obnoxious laugh again. "Oh, I didn't touch him," he denied. "But you're right, you will get to see it. Maybe even up close and personal this time."

Forrest all but growled at that.

That only pleased Rakes more.

Sam looked between the two men before letting out a sigh. She stepped down from the porch to stand directly in front of him, pulling her hat off in the process.

The others couldn't help but notice that she stood a little taller than him.

"Can I give you some advice, Chuck? As a local to a city slicker?" she asked, her voice low enough that only Rakes and Forrest were able to hear her.

Rakes seemed amused by the idea. "Sure."

"If you plan on pullin' the same stunts here that you pull in the city, you're goin' to get a very different reaction," she told him. "See people 'round here won't turn a blind eye to a body in the street, or a burnin' buildin'. Everybody knows everybody. Everythin' is personal. So if you think that you're jus' goin' to walk out of this situation unharmed you're goin' to be sorely disappointed."

"Why, Samantha, are you going to shoot me again?" he teased with a sickening smile. "Because we're both very aware of how well that turned out for you the first time."

"Enjoy your stay here," she said, not rising to his taunt as she turned and headed back inside, Forrest right behind her.

* * *

"Who is he, Sammy?"

Neither Forrest nor Sam had spoken about the confrontation since it had happened, both of them knowing that they didn't want to have the same conversation more than once, and would wait for Howard and Jack to get back to ask their questions. The oldest and youngest Bondurant had already caught wind of what had happened, the news of the Special Deputy and Commonwealth Attorney spreading like wild fire through the county. Apparently that news included Sam's affiliation with Rakes.

She looked over to the brothers as they strode into the room, an unamused look on her face. "Evenin' to you too, Howie."

"Who is he?" he repeated, looming over her.

Forrest glared at his older brother. "Don't talk at her like that. Sit down."

Howard was a little startled but did as he was told, taking one of the stools at the bar.

Sam gave Forrest a small smile before looking over to Maggie. "Darlin', you need to hear this too."

The red head looked stricken at that but made her way over to the group, standing beside Forrest on the other side of the counter.

"Alright," Sam started, rubbing a hand across her eyes. "I don' know Mason Wardell from Adam but Charlie Rakes and I have history," she admitted, ignoring the look Howard was giving her. "Those task forces I was talkin' about this mornin'?"

They nodded.

"Two years ago Rakes was put in charge of one up in Chicago, focused on organized crime. He was doin' the same thing there that he's tryin' to do here, lettin' everyone go about their business s'long as he and his get a cut of the profit. Up in the cities that's not such a big deal, it keeps you from havin' to bribe every cop individually. It's only when you tell them off that the trouble starts," she explained before looking directly to Maggie. "My factory is up in New York but I have a warehouse in Chicago, so I wasn' there when Rakes showed up. My fellas knew I wouldn' go for it so they told him no. Next thing I know I'm gettin' a call tellin' me that the task force is tearin' up the block the warehouse is in. Rakes thought that I was runnin' the same game that he was, offerin' up protection to local establishments for a cut. He was tryin' to get me into his jurisdiction, I knew that, but I wasn' goin' to let him terrorize innocent people makin' an honest livin'."

Maggie and the Bondurant's smiled at that. Of course she wasn't.

"I set up a meetin' with him, let him give me his speech, and then told him no as politely as I could given the situation," she continued with a shrug. "He didn' like that and started in on his threats. I don' remember who started it but we ended up goin' at each other. I got him in the shoulder and he got me in the leg. I was still in the hospital when they told me that the warehouse was on fire."

"He set the place on fire?" Jack asked, far more entertained by the story that he should have been.

She nodded with a sigh. "Whole damn warehouse, burned right to the ground. D'you know how bullets work?" she asked, looking between Maggie and Jack.

They shook their head.

"Well, when you pull the trigger of a gun, a spring mechanism hammers a metal firin' pin into the back end of a bullet, ignitin' the small explosive chard in the primer. The primer then ignites the propellant- the main explosive that occupies about two thirds of a typical bullet's volume. As the propellant chemicals burn, they generate lots of gas very quickly. The gas shoots from the back of the bullet, increasin' the pressure behind it, and forcin' it down the gun barrel at extremely high speed," she explained, sounding more like a teacher than a gun maker. "While that's very efficient there's one problem. You heat a bullet high enough, long enough, and it's goin' to go off. That warehouse had over a million rounds of ammunition in it."

"Oh shit," Jack whispered, knowing exactly what that meant.

Realization swept across Maggie's face. "That was in the newspaper," she said. "Twenty-three people were hurt."

"Firemen and civilians alike, ended up in the same hospital as me jus' cause they were tryin' to help or they were too close. They had to shut down the whole block till the fire died jus' so no one else would get hurt. He got in a lot of trouble for that, especially with the Police Commissioner."

"Why's that?" Howard asked.

She let out a humorless laugh. "Cause I supplied their entire precinct with their assault weapons," she answered. "But thanks to Rakes I lost nearly all my stock, had to be picky on who I sold to and I wasn' all that inclined towards the Chicago police so…." She trailed off. "He got put on a pretty short leash after that but he still picks off the occasional runner to let me know he's still watchin' me. Which is why I assumed Jason was his doin'."

Forrest let out a displeased grunt. "You didn't tell me any of that."

"I told you I got shot."

"Myeah, but you didn't tell me why," he argued.

Sam gave him a look. "It was business, Forrest, we don' talk about business," she defended.

Forrest didn't like that answer, his jaw clenching as he glared down at the countertop. "That's not the point, Samantha," he grumbled, but didn't press the issue.

Seeing the tension in his brother Howard cleared his throat and leaned a little closer to Sam. "So what you're sayin' is that he's going ta burn down the station?"

Sam shook her head. "He's goin' to go after the stills. If he shuts those down then he shuts you down."

"But he doesn't know where they are," Jack reasoned.

"That's not goin' to stop him," she denied. "He'll interrogate everyone in the county till someone tells him what he wants to know. Is it still jus' us and Cricket who know where they are?"

The brothers nodded.

"Good. He won' go after us so we'll have to keep an eye on Cricket."

Jack stood a little straighter. "You think he'll do something to Cricket?"

She nodded with a frown. "I can guarantee it," she told him. "Though some of the others might give him a hard time too," she mused, looking over to Forrest. "You're goin' to that meetin' tonight, right?"

He gave a nod. "Yeah."

"You'll have to let me know what they plan on doin', cause if you're the only ones tellin' him no then he's goin' to have a lot of free time on his hands to fuck with you."

"You're not going?" Forrest asked.

Sam shook her head. "The others wouldn' appreciate my presence. They probably think I brought the bastard with me."

"They do," Howard agreed with a nod.

She rolled her eyes with a scoff. "Well that's their own damn fault," she stated. "Don' fuckin' trust me, see if ever do anythin' for them again."

"They're never trusted you, Sammy. Not even when you was a kid."

Forrest couldn't help the bark of laughter that escaped him.

"I wasn' that bad!" Sam snapped, reaching out to smack his shoulder.

He caught her hand, his thumb pressing into her palm. "You were the bane of Franklin County," he corrected.

She scoffed again. "Jesus, you steal one horse and suddenly you're the town villain."

"It was the Sheriff's horse," Jack reminded her. "And you took his dog too."

Sam pointed a threatin' finger at him. "I'll apologize for the horse but he was abusin' that poor dog," she defended. "It was better off with me then it was with him."

"She just wanted it cause it always bit me," Howard told Maggie, a small smile on his face.

Maggie leaned against the counter with a smirk. "Were you antagonizing it?"

"He'd pull its tail," Jack supplied, ignoring the glare from Howard.

Maggie nodded her head to the side. "Well, if you pulled my tail, Howard, I'd bite you too."

Howard was far too pleased with that, his smile widening as she smiled back at him.

Sam glanced between the two of them before looking to Forrest, silently asking him if he saw what she did.

He answered her question with a small nod, the middle Bondurant having seen the flirtations between his brother and the red head. He wasn't' really sure how he felt about it but he had decided a long time ago not to get involved in Howard's life, or voice his opinions on the matter.

* * *

Sam had tried to sleep, she had, but with Rakes in town and Forrest not back yet, she had cause to worry. She had been curled up on his bed for what felt like hours before abandoning the idea all together. In a desperate attempt to distract herself she pulled down every gun Forrest had on the wall and tore them apart.

"Can't help yourself, can you?"

She looked up from the disabled shotgun spread across the bed to find Forrest standing in the doorway. "I guess not," she said before putting the weapon back together.

Forrest had always held a certain fascination when it came to Sam putting guns together. He supposed it was how confident she was, never having to really pay attention to what she was doing, knowing where every part went instinctually. It was kind of how she handled him.

Confidently, instinctually, knowingly.

"I'll, uh, I'll put them all back in the mornin'," she said, setting the shotgun off to the side of the bed where the others were lined up.

He glanced over to them, amused by the fact that she had found them all. He smirked to himself and looked back to her.

She smirked back and held her arms up to him, a silent invitation.

Forrest took the invitation and kneeled onto the end of the mattress. He pulled his hat off and set it off to the side before crawling closer to her.

She reached up once he was close enough and cupped his face, pulling him down to kiss him.

He hesitated for a moment before resting his hands on her waist, his fingers splaying across her ribs as he leaned into her.

Sam sighed in appreciation and ran her hands back into his hair, scraping her nails across his scalp.

Forrest groaned and pulled her closer to him, swaying them slightly.

She smiled against his lips before trialing kisses across his jawline and to his neck, throwing her weight back to throw them to the mattress. A wheez of a laugh escaped her when his full weight landed on her. "Lordy, have you always been this solid?"

Forrest chuckled and moved to push himself off her but stopped when her arms wrapped around his shoulders and kept him in place.

"Never said I didn' like it," she mused, her fingers trailing across his back. "How'd the meetin' go?"

He pressed his face into her shoulder and let out a groan. "Told 'em that we were going to carry on business like always," he answered. "They're going to roll over for him."

"Well shit," she sighed. "Looks like we've got a fight on our hands."

"This isn't your business, Samantha. You don't have to get involved."

"He's threatenin' my family, of course it's my business," she argued, scratching her nails up his back.

A shiver ran through Forrest and he tightened his grip on her. "Rules."

She let out a frustrated sigh. "Forrest, there's a difference between gettin' involved in the business and protectin' each other," she pointed out. "Rakes is goin' to assume that I'm involved no matter what we tell him, so by default I am involved."

"Don't have to protect us."

"We're protectin' each other, Forrest," she corrected him. "Rakes has the potential to fuck up both of our lives."

He chuckled at that. "I guess you're right," he allowed.

Sam smirked in triumphant. "Course I am. I'm always right."

"Is that so?" he asked before biting down onto her shoulder.

A squeal of laughter left her and she squirmed under him. "Forrest!"


	4. A Bootlegger At The Mercy Of A Preacher

Everyone knew that Samantha Avery had a soft spot for Jack Bondurant. Even when they were kids she was always doting on him or watching out for him. People always thought that it was because of some kind of maternal instinct but Forrest and Howard knew the truth. Sam was not always the youngest child of the Avery family, hell, she wasn't always the only child but that's not the point. The point is that Samantha had had a little brother. He had brown hair and blue eyes, just like Jack, a one sided smile, just like Jack, and an innocent outlook on life, just like Jack. He had been four, Samantha was 5, when he became sick. The doctor would later tell the family that it had been pneumonia, that the illness hadn't been caught soon enough to be treated. Samantha had been there when he'd died, holding his hand and telling him that he was going to be alright. A year later, when she met the Bondurant's, she found her brother in Jack and treated him as such. So when the youngest Bondurant wandered into the station that afternoon with a bloodied face she was far from pleased.

"Oh Lord, Jackie boy," she said, rushing out from behind the counter to him. "What the hell happened to you?" she asked, her fingers prodding at his face to see if anything was broken.

He hissed in pain but knew better than to pull away from her. "Nothin'."

"Nothin'?" she repeated with a glare. "This is nothin'?"

"Leave it be, Sam," he said, trying to brush past her.

"The Hell I will," she stated, getting a tight grip on his arm and dragging him toward the counter. "Sit your ass down," she instructed, only letting him go when he did just down.

"Oh, Jack," Maggie cooed, looking the poor boy over with soft frown. "Are you alright?"

A small smile twitched at his lips. It seemed that everything about Maggie was soft. "I'll be fine, Miss. Maggie. Don't you worry about me."

"Yeah, Maggie, didn't you know?" Sam asked as she marched around the kitchen, gathering anything she'd need to clean up his face. "Bondurant's don' die. The whole damn family is immortal."

"Sam," Jack sighed. He was well aware of her disdain for that particular legend. She thought that it made them reckless. "It's not like that."

"Then what is it like?"

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair as he looked down at the counter. "He went after Cricket."

Sam paused at that, the bowl of water sloshing in her hands. "Rakes did that to you?"

"He would of done worse to Cricket."

She wouldn't argue with that. "Him and Aunt Winey are alright, though?"

Jack nodded and sniffed, trying to clear his nose of the blood.

"Good man, Jack," she praised, grabbing a rag and coming back around the counter.

He looked to her in surprise. "You're not disappointed?"

"I would have been disappointed if you had started the fight," she told him, taking the seat next to him. "Let me see that handsome face."

Jack turned to her, letting her do whatever it was she wanted. "I think Forrest will be disappointed," he mused.

"Why's that?"

"'cause I didn't defend myself."

"It's not like it was a conscious decision, Jack," she reminded him. "Everyone chokes now and again. I still get the shit beat out of me sometimes."

He felt a little bad at being relieved by that. "You do?"

"Mhmm, it happens to everyone."

Jack's relief disappeared. "Not to Forrest."

"Well, Forrest is different," she allowed. "He never gives the other person a chance to even think about it."

Jack sniffed again. "I don't know how he does it."

"I don' think even he knows how he does it," she soothed. "Like I said, Forrest is different."

It didn't take long for Sam to get all the blood off his face, the nose bleed having stopped halfway home. She had prodded at the bridge of his nose, applying pressure here and there to see what hurt. Rakes hadn't broken it but it would definitely hurt for the next few days. The assaulted skin on his right cheek was already bruising, the shape of a shotgun but nearly perfectly outlined.

"That's not too bad," Sam reassured him. "When my nose was broken it blackened both of my eyes. I looked like a damn raccoon for weeks."

Jack smiled at that despite the pain it caused.

Sam smiled back and handed the bowl of bloody water over to Maggie. "Forrest is goin' to be back pretty soon," she said, frowning at the look of panic that flashed across his face. "I'm goin' to wait on the porch for him, alright? Why don' you help Maggie with somethin' till then?"

He nodded and looked back to the counter, seeming resigned to his fate. "Thanks, Sam."

"Of course, Jackie boy," she said as she got up, dropping a kiss to the top of his head before walking out.

She dropped down into Forrest's chair and propped her feet up onto the railing, silently asking herself what she was going to do if Forrest was actually angry about this. She knew he would have something to say to Jack that wouldn't make him feel any better till he time to think about it later, Forrest's way of being cryptic but yet straight to the point often time consuming. Sam wouldn't tell him what to do, wouldn't ask him to go easy on the boy, cause he wouldn't listen anyways. Forrest was mother and father to Jack and he'd be damned if he was going to let anyone else tell him how to raise that boy. Sure, he let Sam handle some things when she was inclined, like trying to teach Jack how to box when the boy had no talent for it, for when she gave him the run down on the basics of how to treat a woman, from a woman's perspective instead of a man's. When that lecture had taken place both Howard and Forrest eavesdropped, finding that some of their ideals were awfully off base and explained a few things. But this was something Sam wouldn't get involved in unless asked, and there was a very slim chance of that.

Ten minutes later Forrest was pulling back up to the station and it was clear that he knew what had happened. He climbed out of the beat up Ford and made his way over to her, a burlap sack clutched in one hand.

Sam moved her feet to the floor and waited, almost expecting him to walk past her.

Instead he crouched beside her once he cleared the stairs, his hand free hand coming up to rest over hers on the arm rest. "He alright?" he asked, his voice low enough for only her to hear.

She nodded as she leaned towards him. "A little bruised up, but he'll heal," she answered. "He's mostly worried about what you're goin' to say."

He grunted at that and looked to the door of the station.

"He was protectin' Cricket, Forrest," she told him, flipping her hand under his to hold it. "Remember that, alright?"

"Mhmm," he hummed, squeezing her hand before getting back to his feet. "You gonna come in?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Will I want to?"

"C'mon," he said, nodding his head to the door.

Sam got to her feet and followed him into the station, pausing for a moment when she spotted Howard sitting a few seats away from him, hovering over a plate of food. She walked past Jack and Forrest to take the seat next to Howard, stealing a piece of his bacon as she nervously watched the other two brothers.

"All right," Forrest said, setting his hat on the counter and the sack on one of the stools. "So you want to get into this racket. But I see you sitting there, looking like somebody's punching bag."

Jack kept his eyes on the counter in front of him, twitching at Forrest's every other word.

"So I ask you….what do you intend to do now?"

Jack glanced over at him. "What do I intend to do?"

"Yeah. You."

Jack was quiet.

"You expect somebody else to handle it?" he pressed.

"No."

"Howard, maybe?" Forrest asked, pointing to the man.

Jack shook his head.

"Samantha would do it. You want her to handle it?" he asked, pointing to her now.

Jack shook his head again. "That ain't what I meant," he defended.

"What did you mean?"

"I don't need no help," he denied.

Forrest leaned closer to him. "I'm sorry?"

Jack tilted his head towards him. "I don't need no help," he repeated a little louder.

"You don't?"

Jack refused to look up at his brother, swallowing hard as he waited for the burst of anger he was expecting.

Forrest nodded his head, glanced over to Sam before turning back to Jack. "Here it is. As long as you are my brother, you will never let this happen again, do you understand?"

Jack sat up straighter. "I didn't-"

"I don't think you do," Forrest cut in.

Jack pulled in a deep breath and turned a little further towards his brother. "What if I can't?" he asked, his voice cracking. "I mean, I ain't…. I'm not built like you and Howard. Or Sam. I ain't never been like you."

Forrest's face softened and he nodded quickly. "It's all right," he reassured.

Jack let out the breath he had been holding and looked back to the counter.

"Jack," Forrest started, leaning closer to his brother, "it is not the violence that sets a man apart. All right? It is the distance that he is prepared to go."

Jack blinked rapidly as he thought that through.

"Jack, look at me," Forrest requested.

Jack did just that.

"We're survivors. We control the fear. And without the fear, we are all as good as dead. Do you understand?"

Jack's eyes shot down to the counter.

"Do you?"

"Rakes told me to tell you they're coming for you next," he said instead, his voice breaking again.

Forrest nodded and looked over to Howard and Sam. "Yeah, well, they'll be back, you can be sure of that."

That earned nods from both of them.

He let out a hum before suddenly turning and grabbing the burlap sack. "Um…" he trailed off, dropping the bag in front of him. "A present from your preacher friend."

Jack looked suddenly more embarrassed than he had before.

"You gonna open it?" Forrest prompted.

Jack pulled in a deep breath and tore into the sack, pulling out the shoe that was inside. He pulled it off the counter when Howard chuckled, holding it on his lap. "Fuck you, Howard," he muttered.

Sam was thoroughly confused. "Preacher friend?" she asked. "Since when d'you go to church?"

Howard laughed harder.

Sam's hand shot out to smack his shoulder. "Shush!" she hissed, looking back to Jack. "There's gotta be a girl. You Bondurant's only make fools of yourself when there's a girl involved."

A blush burned across Jack's face as he looked over to her. "She's the Preacher's daughter."

Sam was quiet for a moment before she was howling with Howard. "Oh sweet Jesus!" she exclaimed, looking at Jack with pure elation on her face. "Oh course she is! She couldn' be anythin' else!"

Jack blushed deeper as his embarrassment doubled. "You're not helpin', Sam," he said.

She shook her head. "Nothin' can help you now, Jackie boy," she told him. "You're a bootlegger at the mercy of a preacher. You're fucked."

"Thanks, Sam," he said with a nod. "That makes me feel a whole lot better."

An excited giggle left her she shook her head. "I wan' to meet her!"

Panic flashed across his face as he shook his head. "Hell no!" he snapped. "You are never going to meet her."

Sam let out an exaggerated gasp. "And why not?" she demanded.

"You'll scare her off," he explained.

She scoffed. "If you haven' done that already I doubt I will," she defended before an idea struck. "Or is she completely ignorant of your existence?"

"She knows I exists!"

"You sure?"

"Well she does now," he grumbled, glaring down at the shoe.

Sam nodded slowly as she got up from her stool, biting off half of the strip of bacon. "It'll be alright, Jack," she reassured him. "A fella who's willin' to make a fool of himself for a girl is a good soul," she told him. "I mean, you saw how Forrest acted when we were-"

"Alright now," Forrest interrupted, reaching out to grab hold of her hand. "None of that."

Sam giggled as he tugged her towards his office. "I'm sure Maggie would be more than willin' to give you some advice on how to woe a proper girl."

Maggie smiled at that and nodded, knowing that Sam was teasing but also completely serious. "I'd be glad to help you, Jack."

"See? We'll get you a fair shot at her," Sam called before disappearing into the office.

Forrest closed the door and turned to face her, hovering by the door. "I wasn't too….." he trailed off, his brow furrowing.

"Harsh?" she supplied, a small smile on her face. "It could have been worse."

He hummed at that and shuffled over to his desk.

"You know, it's awfully decent of you, not expectin' him to be like us," she mused, leaning against the side of his desk.

He glanced over to her. "No point in forcing him to be something he's not," he reasoned.

"Yeah," she sighed, snatching a letter opener off his desk and fidgeting with it. "We all know what that can do to someone."

Forrest paused and watched her for a moment, taking in her sudden tension and anxiousness. "Samantha," he said, reaching out slowly to take the knife form her, "there ain't nothing wrong with you."

"Course there's not," she agreed, pulling in a deep breath. "I'm jus' thinkin' about how different I would be if my Pa hadn' of…." She trailed off, shaking her head. "It doesn' matter."

"Hey," he said, squeezing her knee to get her attention. "You're you, Samantha. You will always be you. No matter what people try to make you into. Even if your Pa hadn' of raised you the way he did, you would still be you."

A smile twitched at her lips as her eyes watered. "Would I still be me if I wore a dress?"

"Oh, now, that's too far," he said, shaking his head as he leaned away from her.

A laugh escaped her before she could stop it, her smile causing a tear to roll down her cheek.

"Hey now, none of that," he said softly, rubbing a thumb up the trail the tear had left.

"Sorry," she said, leaning into his hand. "Sometimes I'm such a girl."

"Samantha, you are a girl," he reminded her.

She rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean."

"Myeah," he said, continuing to caress her cheek, "but I'm awfully glad that you are a girl."

"Even if I'm a girl in pants?"

He nodded. "Even if you're a girl in pants," he repeated, flashing her a smile.

* * *

Later that afternoon they found themselves on the front porch, Forrest in his usual chair and Sam perched in front of him on the railing. It was a nice day out and despite what had happened with Jack they were all going to enjoy the rest of the day. At least, that was the plan till the Sheriff and his Deputy pulled up to the station.

"This should be interestin'," Sam mused as they watched the two climb out of the car.

Henry and Pete ambled towards the porch, pausing a safe enough distance away before Henry unfolded a piece of paper.

"Forrest Bondurant," he started, keeping his eyes on the paper, "it seems you've been involved in some illegal activities."

Sam barked out a laugh.

"Illegal activities, huh?" Forrest asked, not at all sounding impressed.

"Well what about me, boys?" she asked. "You got a paper with my name on it?"

Henry cleared his throat and took his hat off. "No, Sam, I don't."

"It's not polite to leave a girl out, you know?" she teased.

Henry shot her a nervous look before turning his attention back to Forrest. "Now look here, Forrest, you play ball with us we can make this here summons disappear," Henry told him, waving the paper.

Forrest pulled in a breath. "Are you trying to shake me down, Henry?"

"I'm just the messenger here, Forrest."

The sound of a door slamming shut and hurried footsteps came from inside the station, the two law men paying it no attention while Sam simply smirked.

"Have you met Howard?" Forrest asked before the man in question burst through the screen doors.

Henry startled and reached for his gun, his attempt at self-defense quickly stopped when Howard got a hold of him.

"You goin' ta shoot me?!"

Maggie and Jack watched from inside, pressed to the window as far as they could. Watching Howard's temper as he hit both men to the ground.

"Huh? You gonna hurt my brother?!" he yelled, delivering a kick to Henry's side before flipping him onto his back. "You tryna intimidate us, Sheriff?!"

Forrest got to his feet with a sigh, seeming to see where his brother was going to take the situation.

"We're Bondurant's," Howard stated, stepping over Henry and grabbing the gas nozzle from the pump, a few liters filling the top.

"All right now. That's enough now," Forrest said, walking over to the two men.

"You gonna sell out like them other cocksuckers?" Howard continued, planting a foot on the Sherrif's chest before shoving the nozzle down his throat.

"That's enough, Howard," Forrest repeated, stopping just beside them. "Howard, that's enough."

Howard looked up to his brother and for a moment it seemed like he wasn't going to listen. After a moment of staring he pulled away from Henry, throwing the nozzle to the ground before backing off a few feet.

Forrest looked down to the gasping man, no sympathy on his face. "Now y'all know better than to come round here when Howard's been on the stump whiskey for a few days," he said, shaking his head. "I think you might wanna get out of here," he advised, reaching down to grab the nozzle and put it back on the cradle. "You give my regard to Special Deputy Rakes."

Sam jumped down from the railing and walked over, picking up the Sheriff's pistol as she went.

"It ain't nothing personal, Henry," Forrest told him, sounding a little conversational.

"Not at all, Henry," Sam agreed, emptying the bullets into her hand and flipped the chamber closed. "Sorry you got caught up in it all," she said, holding the gun out to him by the barrel.

Henry glanced between them as he nodded, taking the gun with a shaky hand.


End file.
